


To Those Not Present

by Raven_Ehtar



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Background fic, Canon Compliant, Gen, Headcanon, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Ehtar/pseuds/Raven_Ehtar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas day back on Earth, and the Enterprise is celebrating. But the Captain is finding it a little difficult to concentrate when there's someone missing who he was hoping to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Those Not Present

**Author's Note:**

> And it is Spirk Day once again, so we must celebrate with Kirk/Spock fics! If you’ve seen the episode The Dagger of the Mind, (1.09), then there will be a familiar face appearing.

Someone offered him a glass, and Kirk accepted it with a smile. His mind feeling a bit like a down blanket - warm and fuzzy around the edges - he thought it would be wise to drink this one a touch slower than the two that had preceded it. Yes, it was a party, but he was still Captain of the ship, and it wouldn’t do to get completely plastered. Friendly interpersonal approach to command and a jovial event would only go so far to forgive any unseemly behavior. 

So he sipped leisurely as he drifted about the room, stopping here and there to trade a few words with various members of his crew before wending away again. Thankfully he had enough self-control to keep from wobbling drunkenly, though the warmth in his belly had spread to include fingers and toes, and even his face; he was probably more than a little flushed. The Christmas party of the Science Division was meant to be serving only hard cider, but Kirk rather suspected one or more of their clever chemists had augmented the mix, giving it a more powerful kick.

Well, no harm. Each of the Divisions was hosting its own Christmas party as a way of feeling more at home when home was light years away, and Science was the quietest out of the lot. As Captain, Kirk had considered it his pleasant obligation to drop in on every one of the parties himself and socialize. The Command Division was a little on the playful and rowdy side, Security even more so, with plenty of conversations beginning with the words, ‘If you think _that’s_ bad, wait until you hear what happened when I was called to _my_ first away mission…” As for Medical and Engineering… Well, Engineering had Scotty, and Scotty had his self-rigged distillery hooked up in the Engine Room - which Kirk knew absolutely nothing about, of course - so their celebratory traditions were progressing along at a rate and direction that was to be expected. And Medical, the Division most closely related to Science, had Dr. McCoy, and Dr. McCoy had his own stash of hard alcohol of dubious legality - which Kirk was _also_ completely unaware of, how could anyone think differently? - and wasn’t so stingy as to keep from sharing with his relatively small Division. 

In all honesty, Kirk had spent the least amount of time with the Medical Division. As much as he loved his grouchy CMO, even he would admit that medical staff, when in large groups formed this kind of small world all their own that was difficult for anyone on the outside to break into. 

No, chemically enhanced cider was not the worst he had seen on his rounds of the Christmas parties taking place. He took another sip, his lips numbed to the tingle that the drink had elicited earlier.

It was pretty good cider.

Kirk wove around the room, a free floating speck of gold in a sea of blue uniforms. It wasn’t _all_ blue, of course. None of the parties hosted by particular Divisions were exclusionary to the rest; it was expected to see some mingling of the colors, such as in his case. In a Christmas party, though, Kirk thought he would see more red and green. There were spots of red here and there amid the blue, and a little gold, but not a single solitary trace of green. 

And Kirk had so hoped to find a little green, here…

He felt a small stirring of disappointment, which would escalate into an inclination to sulk if he allowed it. He took another, larger sip of his cider, an instinctive response and completely counterproductive to the effect he wished to have. He was just far enough into the irrational side of the alcohol haze that he didn’t really care. 

This ship he had been given, that he had _earned_ was relatively new to him. He’d been in command for approximately three months and was still getting a real feel for it and the crew. He had heard that the _Enterprise_ was up for a five year long mission of deep space exploration. For an assignment like that, Captain Kirk should know every personality quirk of every member of his crew, as well as every nut, bolt and Jefferies tube on the ship. That was his official reason for mingling with the crew during their Christmas parties, to get to know as many as he could on a personal level. 

Kirk wandered over to a table spread with food and absently popped something bright green into his mouth. He let his eyes rove the party as the flavors of chocolate and mint spread over his tongue. 

He did want and need as close a familiarity with everyone as was possible, but he had a second purpose for coming, and for saving the Science Division for last stop. He wanted to see one person in particular, one of perhaps a handful of people he thought he should know as well as he knew himself in order to command at optimum efficacy. 

Besides, it would have been interesting to see how his First Officer dealt with such a social situation, sedate as it was. As a Vulcan, Kirk had been curious how Mr. Spock would carry himself among his peers in a purely unofficial setting. It could have been an interesting study of Vulcan behavior in unusual situations, as well as that of his First Officer specifically. Though Spock was only half Vulcan, wasn’t he? His mother was human if the Starfleet grapevine could be trusted. The first and thus far only human/Vulcan hybrid known to exist and he was a part of Kirk’s crew. 

Yes, Mr. Spock was very interesting. A part of the _Enterprise’s_ crew before Kirk had been assigned to her, a spotless Fleet record, multiple commendations, son of a Vulcan Ambassador; Kirk would admit to have being just a touch intimidated by him at first. His record would have been enough by itself, but in person the man was… well. He was tall, angular in feature and mannerism, and much as every other Vulcan Kirk had met, which was to say very stiff and proper in an effortless way that no human could emulate. There had been something else about Mr. Spock, though, something that prevented Kirk from simply thinking of him as an alien member of his crew. A kind of bottled up intensity, sensed more than seen, that he had never observed in any other of that highly logical, unemotional species. It was almost as though - if Kirk were to judge Spock as he would a human - he were impatient to prove himself, while at the same time keeping himself contained within the strict outlines of what made a proper Starfleet officer. He supposed it might have something to do with his human side, but he was familiar enough with Vulcan sensibilities to know better than to ask. 

The slow dance of uniforms continued under Kirk’s inattentive eye, mostly blue, sometimes red, rarely gold, all moving in complex, interconnected orbits guided by the gravities of personality and circumstance. 

Spock was an enigma, a puzzle that he was very much looking forward to solving over the next five years, should the _Enterprise_ receive those orders as he hoped. If they _did_ get that mission, then five years was no small amount of time to spend getting to know someone, even a less-than-forthcoming Vulcan such as Mr. Spock. He shouldn’t be too disappointed at missing a single chance meeting with him. 

Except that he was. He had begun his rounds of the parties looking forward to seeing him, and had even left the Science Division for last so as to have the excuse to remain longer than with any other Division, and thus more time in his company. 

And he wasn’t here. Really, he ought not to be too surprised. Vulcans weren’t well known for attending social gatherings, and since it was a Christmas gathering, Kirk judged that Spock would have a 50% chance of feeling any sort of nostalgic need to attend at the very best.

Kirk sighed and swallowed his disappointment with the last of his cider. Maybe getting Mr. Spock to attend one of these parties would be a good challenge, a hobby for him while on a five year mission of exploration.

“Captain?”

The voice came from beside him. Someone had gotten close while his attention wandered. Bland smile fitting itself into place, he turned to greet the crewman that had snuck up on him. 

Through the fog of enhanced cider, Kirk registered a blue science uniform, a tall, slender frame, dark hair, angular features, sharp cheekbones, angled brows… Kirk grinned in what was doubtlessly a ridiculous manner. Just when he was accepting the idea of not seeing his First Officer immersed in the very human tradition of Christmas celebration, and _not_ hearing his deadpan observations of the tradition itself and those who partook of it, he appeared at his shoulder. It must really be Christmas back at home, because here was his present. 

“Ah, Mr. Spock!” he said, going for a disarming smile and knowing that it was probably coming across as foolish. “What a coincidence, I was just wondering if you would attend.”

The angled brows drew together, and somewhere in Kirk’s fogged consciousness he knew that wasn’t right. It took a lot of effort to make Spock’s expression change, all he normally got was a single brow arched at him.

“Sir, are you alright?”

The voice more than the question brought Kirk’s vision - and attention to detail - into focus. It was suffused with a mix of concern, caution, and a faint tinge of amusement. This was completely wrong for the controlled tones of his First Officer, whose voice was about as expressive as his face. It was unthinkable for so much feeling to be expressed. More than that, the voice was too high and light. Taking a firmer mental hold of himself, Kirk squinted at the figure standing before him. 

No, something was definitely wrong. A few subtle, but detectible things to the discerning eye. For example, the angled brows were not angled quite as steeply as was characteristic of the Vulcan race. The features were sharp, but a little softened by a surface roundness, lessening their severity. The dark eyes were framed with long lashes, the lips were full, and the hair was long, piled and pinned atop the head. There was a distinct lack of pointed ears and the skin was too pink. If all these clues weren’t enough, or were too subtle for the casual observer, than the short uniform skirt and perky breasts were a pretty good hint that something was off. 

He blinked. He must be drunker than he thought, he mused. No wonder the girl sounded concerned. 

“My apologies, ah…” he scanned for rank insignia on her sleeves, and found none. “Crewman,” he finished, hoping he hadn’t already been introduced to her at some point. Rather than make some excuse for mistaking her for a Vulcan male, Kirk opted for honesty. “The cider is a touch more powerful than I was anticipating, I’m afraid.” He smiled, sheepish and apologetic. 

The girl mirrored his smile, still concerned - and that was reasonable when finding one’s Captain a little sloshed - but more amused than anything else. She indicated a drink in her own hand. “Yes, I’ve come to a similar conclusion. I’ve been here over an hour and still haven’t finished this one.”

“Not much of a drinker then.”

“No, I prefer to keep all of my faculties without any sort of chemical enhancements or, ah, debilitations.”

Kirk raised a brow at that, noting as he did so that it was a newly acquired habit. “Not even at a party?”

“Oh no, even less so,” she said earnestly, her tone and body language taking on a quality he had long learned to recognize as symptomatic of a someone who was sharing their passions. “A situation such as this will be rife with just the sort of interesting interactions and social positioning that I find the most fascinating. If I were to lose my ability to focus I would also miss out on a treasure trove of the material that I specialize in.”

“And what might that be?” he asked, deciding he hadn’t met her before and it was safe to ask.

The crewman’s cheeks pinked charmingly. “I’m a doctor of psychology.” She held out a well manicured hand. “Dr. Helen Noel, Captain.”

The name seemed oddly fitting to Kirk and he had to prevent himself from chuckling, a slight lapse of manners that could no doubt be traced to the cider. He nodded to cover the expression, shaking her hand. “Jim Kirk, a pleasure to meet you, doctor. I’m sorry we haven’t met before, but I am still becoming acquainted with all of the crew.” The doctor nodded her understanding.

Something occurred to Kirk, he gave Dr. Noel a quizzical look. “A doctor in the Science Division party? Were we mingling with friends or were Bones’ ideas of holiday games not to your taste?”

A quick flash of white teeth, she took back her hand. “Perhaps not, no. Dr. McCoy’s Southern American upbringing tends to show through a little more than is usual at times like these and it can be a little… boisterous. But no, I came here to meet a friend in exobotany.” She looked around, as though seeking out that friend. Kirk wondered if this was her polite way of breaking away from a conversation with her Captain without causing offense, and was about to make things easier for her when she fixed her gaze back on him. 

“And you, sir? It seems you were hoping to meet someone specific in coming here.”

_She really does have very dark eyes,_ he thought to himself. _And they sparkle when she smiles, like the sky full of stars._

He waved a hand not holding his empty glass dismissively. “Not really, doctor, simply making my rounds through each Division’s take on the festive season. To be honest I was expecting to see nearly everyone aboard.”

“Well, not everyone’s personal beliefs may conform to what is central in a Christmas celebration. Especially to our non-human crewmembers,” she added with a touch more emphasis. Kirk wasn’t sure whether to be pleased to have such an observant person as a member of his crew or to curse his luck at being on the receiving end for their first meeting. 

“No,” he agreed. “But if their beliefs do not align, I might expect them to take advantage of the atmosphere, the company…”

“If I may say so, Captain, even that may not conform to the tastes of every species, or every individual.”

Kirk smiled, conceding the point, Mr. Spock’s personal habits and undeniable lineage clear in his mind. “No, I suppose not.”

Conversation continued along easily from there, with Dr. Noel taking mercy on his somewhat inebriated state and making no more subtly presented observations. Instead they fell to the comfortable standbys of personal history leading to their current postings, present interests, and bits of noteworthy minutiae. It was a relaxing distraction, pleasant and undemanding on his fogged brain, the actual content of whatever was said of so little consequence and so often repeated to others in various forms that he could carry along with only half of his attention engaged. If the doctor ever noticed a lack of skill on his side of their conversation, she never gave sign or seemed to mind. It was another thing to be grateful for in her company - she didn’t make him feel foolish for his condition, and while conversing with her, no one else was attempting to engage him. It was a bit of a relief, he wasn’t at all sure he wanted it to be known that the Captain had become intoxicated at a party on board, enhanced cider notwithstanding. 

Almost without his noticing, the two of them left the party together to walk the corridors - one of them had mentioned wanting fresh air, though he couldn’t recall which - and their wandering had led to the observation deck, one of Kirk’s favorite spots aboard his new ship and as close to ‘fresh air’ as they were like to get.

The conversation that had provided such a comfortable bubble around them at the party and carried them here dwindled to nothing as they took in the incomparable view beyond the transparent aluminum. 

He was the Captain of a starship. His job, his life and his home were all amongst the stars, tacking back and forth through the frozen void that had so long separated Earth from those other, distant sparks of warmth and light, and being faced with the sight of it still brought him the same wave of wonder and exhilaration as it had when he was a boy in Iowa, head tilted back and dreaming of adventure. He didn’t know if Dr. Noel felt anything similar when she looked out at the stars, but even if she didn’t, she allowed him his minute of silent reflection. Left to his own thoughts, he almost forgot that she was there. She became a vague presence standing beside him, a warm pressure at his side as they moved through the cosmos. 

Kirk’s blood was still warmed by the Science Division’s cider, though his mind had cleared a little, and to him this all seemed perfectly _right_. As much as he loved being at the heart of activity, among his crew and a part of the ebb and flow of a living starship, _this_ was what he had really joined Starfleet for: to face the stars and hurl himself out into them for the chance of exploration, of discovery. To go where none had gone before and bring back knowledge that would benefit all of humankind. It was what he was truly meant to do; he couldn’t imagine being or doing anything else. 

And yet, at the same time, it was also _right_ that there was a presence beside him, to share this calling with another, to share the sky and stars with someone who could appreciate them for the potential they held, who could hold them in the beauty that they were. 

New worlds, the potential for new _life_ , all waiting for them. 

Still facing the viewing ports, he said some of all of this out loud to the presence at his side, the cider’s influence still making itself known in the rawness of his voice. He wouldn’t be able to say later what _exactly_ he said, but something of what was going through his mind, and only hoped it made sense. In the blurred reflection of the viewing ports, he could almost believe that his words reached the one he had meant to hear them…

He walked the doctor back to her room, sensing as he left her that she was disappointed as he left her at her door. He suspected why, but didn’t allow himself to brood over it for now.

Tonight, as the ship cruised through the stars and his head gently spun, he thought instead on the one person he had wanted to see who had not been present, and how to ensure that he _would_ be there next Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> You may also consider this a very early Christmas special if I don’t get around to writing one of those later. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!


End file.
